


Toasted

by Lightspeed



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alcohol, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drunken Cuddles, Drunkenness, Other, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-30
Updated: 2013-11-30
Packaged: 2018-01-15 16:15:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1311157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightspeed/pseuds/Lightspeed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A night of beer and chatter in the cold leaves the team curled into a giant pile to cuddle and grasp for warmth.  Pure fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toasted

 Heavy's belly was comfortable. This much, Medic was able to grasp onto as his mind slipped about inside his skull, slithering and sliding around, heavily lubricated with far too much beer. The room spun slowly, rocking as if on waves as it went, a whirlpool of wood and stone and the warm fire that cast its orange glow across the assembled bodies before it. His knee dug into the thick carpet which sat atop the cool boards that made up the floor, the only thing to prop himself up as the rest of his weight relaxed across the giant Russian's body, draped over his belly and chest like a drunken rag doll.

Beneath him, Heavy's breaths were deep and long, the easy inhale and exhale of a man at rest, a boozy smile crossing his thin lips. His strong, broad arms spread out at his sides, half-circling the forms that occupied the spaces between them and his body. Drunk, sleepy men curled up against his warm bulk, which radiated heat like the fire that sat nearby, their supine forms absorbing all he gave off, hungry to soak up any excess warmth in the cool air of the drafty base's rec room.

Beside one arm, Scout curled against his side, arm thrown onto the giant and hugging against his deltoid, smiling in a beery haze. Heavy wondered idly if the younger man realized he was nuzzling against his chest in his drunken fit of snuggles, which only served to tug the corners of his mouth into a wider smile. It was almost cute.

Against his other arm, Sniper rested, arms wrapped around Heavy's wrist and hand as his back pressed close to the giant's side, soaking up his body heat like a sponge even as he shivered gently. He curled tightly in on himself, snoring softly, lulled to sleep by the warmth and closeness of the giant body against his, as well as the overlarge amount of booze in his belly.

Medic lifted his face from Heavy's pudge, squinting to see, completely unaware as to where his spectacles had ended up. Things sort of began to get fuzzy around the sixth round of strong, locally-brewed beer that Engineer had returned from town with on the day's supply run. He wasn't sure how many more rounds there had been, but certainly it was enough to conquer even his German fortitude, as well as the seasoned liver of Demoman, who lay with his head on Scout's middle, snoring loudly with a half-empty bottle still held in one limp hand, his feet stretched out toward the fireplace. His face pressed into the younger man's side, facing his hip, a wet spot beneath his lips growing on Scout's shirt. Had he not been on the verge of a beer-fueled slumber himself, the American's umbrage would have been loudly announced. Instead, he simply fidgeted when he noticed the moisture, then settled back into Heavy's arm with a soft mumble.

Joining the chorus of snores, Soldier lay side-to-back with Demoman, helmet clutched to his chest as his mouth lay open, an empty beer bottle tipped on its side next to his head. His forehead pressed into Demoman's back, his body half-turned to nestle into the taller man's warmth, hand not-quite holding onto his hip as fingertips leaned against him, arm thrown haphazardly across his own middle.

Letting his hand fall from Heavy's belly, Medic jumped when he tapped cold plastic. Squinting down, he caught sight of Engineer relaxing against the giant's hip, hard hat tilted forward over his eyes. His neck was bent at what _must_ have been an uncomfortable angle, chin digging into his chest, but it seemed he was unable to move, the victim of Spy's cat-like dozing. The Frenchman had drank himself into a terrible, pun-spewing tizzy, finally calming only as his coworkers had begun to settle in near the fire and somehow assemble into a pile of warmth. He'd taken up a spot between Demoman and Engineer, daring to remain in proximity to Scout's curled legs as he laid his head on the Texan's soft belly, arms thrown over the shorter man and circling round his own head, claiming Engineer as his territory for the remainder of the night. The broad, gloved hand that sat on his shoulder spoke of the shorter man's lack of a problem with this, content to share warmth with the slender rogue.

He smiled down at the softly snoring Spy, his belly shaking a bit with gentle laughter, then cast his gaze to Pyro, who lay with his legs across the feline Frenchman, feet tipped up onto Scout's thighs. His mask-clad face balanced in gloved hands, facing away from the pile that comprised his brew-addled teammates. Instead, dark lenses reflected the flames before him, warming his face and arms and licking at his shoulders, bringing a smile to the mouth that curled beneath filters and rubber. These were the nights that made him the happiest. In spite of the cold that tugged his suit into uncomfortable rigidity, in spite of the drafts and the snow outside of the mountain base, when his team came together to bask in the glow of the fire, to bask in the warmth of each other, to bask in the comfort and camaraderie of being friends, it made him blaze with joy. He was content, peaceful, and so very warm.

**Author's Note:**

> prompt fill for the TF2 Promptfest: Ensemble - drunken cuddle pile


End file.
